


The Real Alien Here

by Bell_Trihuman



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Autopsies, Dissection, Expirimentation, F/M, Gen, Gore, M/M, Masochism, Middle School, Minors, Other, Skool, platonic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-20 14:38:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20677040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bell_Trihuman/pseuds/Bell_Trihuman
Summary: You are in Middle Skool and are considered a loner, not because no one wants to be friends, but because you're allergic to stupidity





	1. Chapter 1

I mind my own business most of the time, not really giving mind to anyone around me at Skool. Some mistake it for me trying to be a brooding badass. But in actuality, I just hate social interaction and have learned from a young age that conversations with others "around my age" turn out to be nothing but shallow and meaningless noise. There's never a true goal to their babbling, they just speak mindlessly and I'd rather not get infected with the stupid virus, so I keep at a distance, no matter the other kids' attempts to bring me into their various cliques.   
Today in class, we're having to change seats again, simply because the teacher feels like it. But keeping in mind the previously stated: this really won't effect me in any way other than having another irritating voice to tune out and a new face to ignore.   
Things settle down, and for some damn reason, I'm sat smack-dab in the middle of the classroom. I'm starting to get a migraine... especially since one of the kids sat by me keeps looking at me or, at least, in my general direction. Ignoring him, I stare blankly at the chalk board, until I notice that another kid sat on the other side of me starts doing the same thing. Now I'm getting pissed and slightly paranoid... the fuck?   
I look over to the first kid- shit, it's the paranormal-obsessed one. And let me guess, his "mortal enemy" is on the other side of- yep. Great.  
After taking glances at each of them, I just try to focus on my paper in front of me. These dipshits have had this stupid rivalry going on for years now, ever since the one with the apparent "skin condition" moved here from who knows where.  
The one with glasses takes the advantage of being so close to his rival and begins aiming a mechanical pencil to go over my head and directly into the other's. Don't do it...I swear to-  
The pencil misses its target and quite efficiently flicks me upside the head. I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I turn towards the idiot. I proceed to stare literal death into his soul and his face goes pale. He turns his full attention back to the school work in front of him. I think he almost says an apology, but if he did, he definitely didn't speak up and I honestly don't care, I just want him to stop. I just want most people to stop. It's far too much to ask them to be what's considered normal, so the least I can want is for them to leave me to myself without bombardment of their antics and stupidity.   
Shit- got lost in thought again...the other kid's been staring at me for a while now, I just noticed...weird.  
"Hey!", the kid whisper shouts. I flick my eyes towards his direction, but decide it's best to keep facing forward.. maybe he'll leave me alone.  
"Hooman!", he tries again, a little more desperation in his voice. I cringe and slightly turn away, hoping he'll get the hint. But instead he just starts waving his hand and repeating a whispered mantra of 'hey's and 'hooman's. This isn't helping my migraine...  
He reaches about his 100th 'hey' before I turn to him and snap,  
"What!?", in a hissed whisper.  
"BE QUIET!", I jump and look towards the wicked Ms. Bitters sat at her desk, a frown deepening the lines on her aging face. Gaining a frown myself, I groan quietly at the injustice of the situation, but still get back to work.   
This doesn't phase the kid though as he continues to talk in a one sided conversation,  
"How did you do that? Is there a weakness of Dib's that only you know hooman? Tell meee... Why aren't you speaking?! ..Listen to me!"  
The bell finally rings and I scoop up all my stuff, not bothering to organize any of it, just so I can get out of there quickly. I'll organize it later.  
There's a sudden flurry of green and before I can register, the same kid is standing in front of me. I'm slightly taken aback, no one's ever tried this damn hard to talk to me.  
"HOOMAN! I COMAND YOU TO-", I just walk around him, I've got somewhere to be, dammit..  
\---------------------------------------------

Lunch roles around and I can't help but feel the stares of the other Middle Skool students as I mind my business. When I say students, I mean more so the two weird kids that are now sat next to me in my first class. Even though they're tables away and apart from each other, their gazes bore holes in the back of my skull and it's ticking me off...  
Soon, a pair of black shoes make their way up next to me. I stare, then slowly rise my gaze to see it's the same one that won't stop bothering me. Grimacing, I decide to just let him talk to me so maybe we can both move on after I give him a personalized invitation to buzz off.  
He starts with a low-level, granted threatening, tone of voice,   
"Hooman, Zim demands to know your secrets!" My brow rises in question, opting to continue staring at this supposed "Zim"...weird name. Zim growls under his breath, then shouts,  
"How did you get the Dib-pig to wither under your mere gaze, earthworm!?" I snark at the reason he wanted to talk to me, shaking my head and turning back to my lunch. Zim's taken aback as he stares at my response. His fury grows, but he pushes it down to compose himself. Pushing my tray aside slowly, he sits down across from me. My face falls from the fleeting humor of situation and stare just as darkly as he stares at me. There's a pause,  
"What do you call yourself.", Zim commands. The sentence itself should be posed as a question, but he knows he won't get to me with questions, but instead with demand.  
A sly grin stretches across my face as I look him in the eye,   
" Wouldn't you like to know?"


	2. Cat Scratches

I've always loved pain. The second it touched my skin, a way I never knew it could. Quick and harsh. Simple. Perfect.  
Of course no one would be able to understand. They'd be worried about my mental health, given my discovery at such a young age as three. So it was a secret, a simple secret, but none-the-less one kept between me and my cat. He was black, white, and unreasonably fluffy- a MainCoon mix, I think they said he was.  
He was not my friend by any means , in fact, I'm fairly certain he hated my guts. He probably would have ripped them out if having given the chance. Which is why I took every opportunity to hold him whenever I could. The perfect situation for the perfect excuse. I'd grab for the cat in front of my parents so that there was no mistaking where the marks came from. They respectfully freaked out and tried to get the cat taken away. It would especially scare them when they had a party going on or guests over since they wanted to keep up their public image. But because I wailed and screamed at them not to get rid of the cat, they let him stay, much to his dismay of course.  
I suppose they felt bad, given that at the time we lived out in the country and couldn't exactly have many friends. They assumed that the cat was my best friend and didn't want to let go of him even though he'd hurt me on a daily.

One day, I had riled him up into a pretty foul mood and went for the finishing move to make him take action.  
I went to pick him up.  
And I wasn't expecting it.  
A swipe, yes, perhaps a bite.  
But not that.  
Not the waterfall of blood that poured from my hand after he sunk his claws in as deep as they could go. Or the way he wouldn't stop after he got the first strike in. I couldn't understand what was happening, it was just more pain after more pain. I was screaming bloody murder for only a short while before my parents even processed what they were hearing and only then sprinted towards me.  
The cat was gone the next day. I don't blame them. And I did't protest, didn't plan on it. I was stunned, I didn't know the depths that physical pain could go. But because of that, new doors were opened for me... how I now miss that cat...

I found other ways to satisfy my odd needs, such as purposefully stubbing my toes, bumping into things to get bruises, slipping up and cutting myself with kitchen knives or broken glass, and leaving my blow dryer blowing in the same place until I couldn't bear it.  
Of course I'm left with scars, but it doesn't cause me much dismay as I can easily cover up with long-sleeved shirts and the like. I will sometimes get stares if its hot out or if I slip up and don't cover everything, but most just mind their own business while I go about my own.  
I remember one day in science class, we were all assigned in groups with the lab assignment of dissecting a frog. It disgusted me at first, but I quickly got the hang of it as I sliced and labeled as I went along... and then I got the urge...  
I looked down at the scalpel in hand..I knew I couldn't resist.  
I casually sanitized the blade, acting as though I were clearing up, then took the blade to an organ on the table. I slowly brought my finger a little too close before promptly slicing down. I had noticed that it had gotten stuck in the latex of my glove before my attention even slightly split to my classmate who acknowledged the blood pouring from my finger by screaming out.  
"Shit!! What did you do?! Ms. Kingsley!"  
"Oh no, what did you do? Stanley, get the nurse on the phone, the number's by my desk. Get her down here. Becky, get the first-aid kit from over there, now, "the teacher barked orders and calmly as she could. Everyone was a little put off by my ability to stay calm. They promptly patched me up and hurriedly sent me off to the nurse's office as she arrived to the classroom. I hadn't caught anything from the blade, and was fine health-wise, but I certainly caught an affinity for it.My parents over time just chalked it up to me being accident prone.  
They decided it best to get a fresh start and move to Detroit, Michigan the following year and as any good parent would do, decided it best to basically baby-proof the entire house.

It's made home-life a little more boring, but it's fine, I've been trying to refrain myself as much as possible lately. Perhaps to lessen the amount of stares. Though if I were to say that the sound of a resolution of oneself after moving somewhere new wasn't enticing, I would be lying. Life here is certainly weird, the smog seems to turn the sky a different colour and the city occupants seem to be under a constant haze, ignorant of even the most blatant of things going on around them. I've more than once refused the offer to go into the city for grocery shopping or other errands in fear of the residents and the poor economical up keeping of things.  
Things have gone dull, almost numb... but this Zim person... he could be my ticket out of this nightmarish, monotonous rut I've gotten myself into. But honestly, I don't want to take chances with people and their abhorrent being. What if he's truly like the rest of the city's people? Though, he doesn't seem to be and aren't taking chances what being human is all about? He seems strange... stranger than most anyway; entertaining almost.  
Damn.  
Lost in thought again. 

I pick up the bowl that once held my cereal and down the sugary milk before putting it into the sink and heading out the door to go stand at the bus stop.  
Today's certainly going to be interesting, that's for sure.


End file.
